Know Thyself
by Piersa15
Summary: Five soldiers are thrust from training and into the battlefield with instructions to 'collect information'. Eager to prove themselves, they attack their objectives.
1. Trafficker

The building was gargantuan. Large and white it stood, surrounded by white sand on all sides, spreading out as far as his eyes could see. Off in the distance there were a few greenish specs of what must be trees, and a faint blue line of the ocean.

A normal person should have only seen the large building, trees, sand, and some ocean, and maybe imagined it as a kind of vacationing spot. But he'd never been normal and neither was this place. He could _feel_ it, and he could see it too. He tried to turn away but it rolled right over him.

Iria felt her little brother's hand go lax in hers. She tightened her grip and smiled down at him, projecting calmness and control. Her practiced smile wetly slipped off her face.

"Quatre?"

She knelt in front of him and gently grabbed his shoulders, and began lightly running her fingers through his hair.

"Here Kitty Kitty Kitty...Quat." His eyes were staring raptly at something only he could see and his body swayed with the wind.

Come _on _dammit! The people on this island wouldn't care _how_ strong he was if he kept going off into his little fits.

_"Iria". _Clear, toneless and sexless. _"Is there a...problem?" _

She snapped up her mental shields before allowing an inner, violent shudder. Show no weakness. She turned, and, instinctively using her body and mind to shield Quatre's, stood. 

This being before her, though containing a sexless quality, was unmistakably male. He was a middle eastern man who, standing somewhere over six feet contained the swarthy skin of his people. His liquid black eyes stared at her over a roman nose and thin lips. An older man, for the lines around his eyes, whom she had once considered handsome. Before she'd known what he really was.

Show no weakness.

"Ramar. How lovely to see you after so long." She smiled a relaxed smile and felt her bowels nearly release as he briefly touched her mind. She returned the light, testing touch to his smooth shields. A customary greeting among psions. She was out of practice. His face didn't reveal in the slightest what he'd taken from her, but she had felt his mind sink ever so slightly _beyond_ her shields.

_"I sensed your distress, Iria._"As though he cared. "_Is there anything you require assi-"_ For the first time since she'd known him, she saw him lose his composure. His eyes widened and his lips _popped_ open. His hair grayed slightly as he lost a bit of concentration on his projection, and for a moment he looked like a surprised older man. For all her shock she didn't dare let _her_ face show her surprise. His power deserved far too much respect and commanded a great deal of fear. He regained control and his eyes bore into her.

_**"What** is that?"_

Her pleasant smile strained as she tried to buy Quatre...herself, more time. "What is what?" She visibly flinched at his glare. "Oh that. Well...as the details of our bargain dictates, I have brought you someone with far greater potential than I myself bear..." she fumbled searching for more words, "his name is Quatre Rebarba Winner and he is my younger brother." Her laughter sounded like she was gargling glass so she stopped. "You ah, you may think he is a bit odd, being the only boy in a family of girls but-"

_"Move aside." _Dismissed.

His focus slid off her and probed at the little boy behind her. She quickly moved squarely in front of him and flared her own psychic aura to mask Quatre's and draw Ramar's attention to her.

A strong breeze gusted her blond hair in her eyes and whipped the pretty white sun dress around her pale calves.

Iria didn't know what was wrong with her. She'd brought Quatre here to free herself of the chains binding her here and _they_ could help him deal with his overwhelming psychic potential far better than she. She would be free and he would learn control and_ they_ gained a powerful replacement psychic for their cause. Everyone won. So why then was she so reluctant?

Another, sharper tug of wind played with the slender platinum chain around her neck. The gust might have even lifted it from her breast if it weren't weighed down by the little charm on the end. A small heart made of gold.

It had only been a month ago, on Quatre's tenth birthday, she'd purchased them both identical necklaces. He'd stared up at her with wonder and innocence as she explained that it was because they shared hearts that were so big, with so much space inside that they could feel what was in other people's hearts too. He had been so happy then. He always used to happy then, before more and more weight from his burgeoning psychic talent fell on his frail shoulders.

Talents. 'Chains' was more accurate.

When she had first come to this place, she had been considered invaluable with her powerful double gift of empathy and clairvoyance. They'd bound to her to them so tightly that it took a miracle to free her.

Quatre. He was supposed to be that miracle. She'd stopped counting his 'talents' when she couldn't even _name_ some of the things she saw happen around him. They would take him and never let him go.

There had never been another psion with the kind of power Quatre would someday wield.

And few with what he could wield now.

Not even Ramar Nazeer, the Compound's most powerful telepath and one of the world's strongest minds, would match his abilities. She'd been older when they'd come for her. Old enough to have her own mind, old enough to know whether or not she wanted to be apart of the Compound, old enough to question, old enough to...just old enough. Quatre wouldn't stand a chance. There wouldn't be any miracles for him. They would take him and change him and.

She wanted to run a nervous hand through her hair. Or bite her lips. Or scream.

"I've", her voice cracked. "I have changed my mind", she said. Against the pierce of his glare, she drew the strength and nobility inherit in her very name. She was a Winner and her father had never let any of his daughters forget that.

She squared her shoulders and managed a far more confident, " I will return to the Compound, and serve as I was meant to."  
_  
"**You** will serve?" _Somehow that utterly toneless mental voice managed to sound both incredulous and scornful at once.

"Yes, _I _will serve." Iria could feel the famous Winner temper building in her middle and stiffening her spine. Her chin snapped up. "You yourself told me that I was of strong potential and that my doubly talented nature made me extremely valuable. I will become whatever sort of assassin you wish of me, but I will not subject my brother to your twisted subversions."

Ramar simply stared at her with no expression in his black eyes. Finally he nodded slowly.

She held her stance for a moment, silk and hair ruffling a graceless dance on the breeze. Finally she too nodded and turned to Quatre.

The small boy stood as heavy lidded and entranced as he had been before Ramar had appeared. She picked him up and his body relaxed against hers, his eyes slipping shut. Quatre was still drawn into the aura of the place, seeing things only he could see.

The young woman hugged Quatre to her and started walking. The shield that anger had afforded her from common sense was fading and her heart throbbed dully in her chest.

A pricking between her shoulders told her that Ramar's gaze still bore into her.

She walked faster.


	2. Finite Prestidigitation

The Room was huge. It was disgustingly white and so bright you couldn't even tell where the corners were. Normal people couldn't anyway. That was just the icing on the cake, though. In this football field size room was a veritable vomit pool of auras and magics flashy enough to put out both the Big Guy's eyes. If God Himself _could_ nose his into the room in the first place. Most losers assumed this joint was a typical square room. Wrong. This place was built in a hexagon.

Why? Every idiot knew five was a mystical number, and a room carved in five was a room with magic waiting to happen to it. The Room was had spells up the wazoo. Every wall was chock full of spells, arrays, runes, charms, and spirits that kept their magic in, and the rest out.

The Room was nuts too. Some idiot managed to make it _think_.

It's purpose in the Compound was to teach young, potential magic users how to use their magic, only _it_ didn't teach. The rumor was that the magic user who tried to craft the Room got so tied up in the magic, she couldn't get out. So while she kept trying to perfect her master piece with her magical body, her natural one slowly shut down and finally died. But her magic was still alive and kickin it because the Room was strong enough to draw on unknown sources of magical energy to maintain itself. Her spirit was trapped in the spell, and was forced to show up like an in-color Casper and teach. She didn't even have a name, so everybody just called her the Room. Or the Witch.

The Witch didn't teach, she tortured. Everyday the only sixteen magic users in the entire Compound showed up to learn in the Room. They all wandered around the Room until, like eating chocolate ice cream, the spot felt right. A single sheet of paper drifted down from wherever-the-hell, with each individual's instructions for the day typed neatly on it. Every now and then, a kid got lucky and only had to do something stupid, like studying constructs of magic. Runes and spells. Most days, however, the Room came up with tasks of magic on a scale of impossible. Like managing a complete transfiguration of an inanimate object into whatever showed up on the paper, or using their total knowledge of magic to survive in a mental simulation. The smart and strong usually managed to at least figure out _how_ to accomplish their objectives. The ten-year olds were bored. Why? They kicked ass.

At least _this_ ten-year old kick ass was bored. He sighed for the tenth time in three minutes glanced at his objective. The small cloth napkin in front of him taunted him. His breath huffed on it and it ruffled mockingly, as if to say, "Bored huh?"

The boy never passed up an opportunity to relieve boredom. He leaned over the napkin and nodded, "Yeah, you stupid blanket." He breathed over the small cloth again. It ruffled at him, "Why not do something fun? Like that kid over there?"

He looked over and saw a five year old Asian boy sitting on the ground twenty feet away. His dark eyes stared into space as he tranced. _He _got to enter a mental simulation, fighting against his own mind with every spell he knew to survive as long as possible.

The boy grimaced, "Cause, stupid, I don't know how." He blew on it roughly.

The chatty cloth didn't seem to want to talk anymore. "Hey..." It sat silently in front of him on the seamless white floor. His frown darkened further. "Fine, idiot. I never figured how to do that spell. It's freakin' hard, even for a genius. _He's _the only one who's more advanced than me, so the Room told him how to do it. Happy?" The dumb cloth didn't even move in the breeze of his breath.

He angrily shoved the cloth away from him, and glared at it, considering the punishment for torching it.

"Duo! Shut up!", an older, long haired, blond kid hissed at him from over thirty feet away.

Duo looked over and whispered back, "It isn't _me_! This dumb hanky won't leave me alone!" He pointed at the stupid napkin. "And what's it to you? Mind your own damn business, _Milliardo_!" Duo stared mockingly at the blonde's objective. The loser couldn't seem to make the pile of _twigs_ in front of him catch fire. The blond flushed darkly and opened his big mouth again., "You _will not_ call me that!" he hissed.

Duo smiled his best five year old, shit eating grin. "Maybe if you were as in love with those sticks as you are with me, you could freaking _burn _them. Even an idiot with a match can burn sticks." The blonde's face darkened to a near purple color, and Duo laughed quietly, trying not to attract the Room's attention. The other boy's angry thoughts fluttered against his mental shields, and he could see the aura of the blonde's considerable magic forming a focal point of danger. Duo flipped back his own plaited long hair and grinned wider. Not that the blond didn't have strong power, Duo's was just stronger. A lot stronger. And he was practically a genius.

When he sensed the blond had reached the peak of anger, Duo released, what to him was, a tiny burst of wild magic. A tendril of black streaked from him to the bundle of sticks and they flinched violently. The bundle flinched again and hurled itself apart, each flying stick bursting into flame. Milliardo yelped and ducked the flying fire-sticks.

Duo quickly looked back at his own project, assuming the perfect picture of innocence. Still, he felt the fine hairs on his neck shift, and sensed the cold presence of a spirit near. He winced, looking up to meet the metallic, grey eyes of the Witch.

"Mister Maxwell. This isn't the first interruption I've had from you." Her voice was like a computer, with no tone or inflection. "Normally I would punish you, but the Room feels as though I should ask the cause behind your anomalous behavior." Duo's eyes widened and he sent a quick 'thank you' to God. No one _ever_ got to explain themselves in the Compound. It was always shoot first and ask questions never.

He put on his best 'poor baby' face. "I'm sorry, I really am. I never meant to hurt anyone I just wanted to try to help Milliardo with his fire, so he would help me with... meditation." His hands were clenched, his cheeks red, and his eyes wide and ready to cry.

"What made you think you could help another with his assignment when you had not completed yours? Why would a small fire require a wild flare of magic? There are many various magical means to set wood to light, the least of which would be an uncontrolled burst of power, is this not true?" She stared at him calmly. Shit!

Duo cast his eyes down and scrambled for answers. Maybe not a genius after all.

"I-"

Her metallic eyes peered unblinking at him. "Mister Maxwell, the Room has no time to spare energy in teaching liars or the unreliable and the Compound has no place in it for the disobedient. It is only because of your advanced grasp of the magics, that you have been allowed the chance to explain your difficulty. If, however you choose not to take this chance, or persist in your dissembling, the full consequences will fall upon you." He could almost see the vast mind of the Room behind her flat eyes. It hovered over him like heavy judgment.

Duo lowered his head, letting his bangs conceal his expression.

"I'm just ...,"he hesitated and briefly considered trying the 'stupid kid' routine again. "Bored. All the spells I learn seem like common sense, and...I'm almost as good as the kid in the simulation," some frustration slipped out, "but he's always five steps ahead and gets to do the really challenging stuff while I'm stuck with the baby steps."

He didn't look up, and the Witch didn't say anything but he could feel those strange eyes on him, and the Room's thoughts shifting behind them. He could also sense everyone else in the room studiously applying themselves to their conjuring. Finally she spoke,

"Your grasp of the magics is far advanced beyond that of all but one of your peers, and you possess great power. You are also lazy and your control is sloppy at best. Your power is abrasive and bucks uncontrolled at the restraints of the smallest of spells. It is the Room's judgment that Duo Maxwell is not able to deal with anything as complex as magics of the mind." Duo's shoulders sagged and his bangs further obscured his face in shadow. The monotone continued.

"The Room also constantly evaluates Its students. Though It is doubtful, if Duo Maxwell has shown suitable control over his power in one week's time, the Room will consider him for higher, more complex magics. If not, Duo Maxwell will continue learning at his current speed."

Duo's head flicked up in shock, but the Witch was already moving away. He'd just gotten off completely free of punishment, and the freaky spirit had just told him how to-" He reached out and yanked the napkin over to him.

He stared at it for moment before taking a deep breath. He closed his eyes. Almost immediately he felt his power try to hop out of him, and he yanked on it hard. Duo had always thought of his strange power as a dog. He could normally point and it would run out, knocking over everything in its path and disrupting anything nearby. Like the TV, and the wind, and even people. Trying to force his mutant energy into a spell construct was like trying to force a wolf down a rabbit hole. It was way too big and involved a lot of kicking and yelping.

Duo scowled with determination. _His_ wolf was gonna lose some weight and learn to shut the hell up. He repositioned his body until he sat cross legged, and breathed in...two. three, and then out...two...three. Every part of his small body trembled before suddenly relaxing. And without actually moving, Duo turned around to peer inside himself.

It was dark. No, not dark, but utterly and completely black. For other people, it would have been frightening, but Duo knew that this was just apart of himself, and not unfamiliar in the least. He'd never managed to cross this thresh hold in Meditation, but now it felt easy, and he knew exactly how to find what he was looking for. He called it with a sharp whistle.

In the blackness he heard it answer. Sounds, like claws striking concrete reached his ear with a scary closeness. Suddenly Duo remembered a TV show, where every time the husband came home, the family dog jump on him and nearly squished him to death. He pictured himself crushed underneath a large wolf and threw his arms out.

_"Whoa doggy!"_

There was an awful screech, like a car accident waiting to happen before...nothing. A puff of warm air hit his cheek and a whine reverberated all around him. Duo cautiously reached forward. His hand touched something soft and cold. It moved an released another puff of air against his hand. Another high whine bit the air and something warm and wet _licked_ his hand. He giggled and then outright laughed as he threw his arms up and about his wolf. It danced in his arms, big and full of power and excitement. Its fur felt like the softest thing in the world and he wanted to lay against its chest forever. His wolf wriggled impatiently in his grasp. It loved hugs, but really wanted to run and play. Duo stepped back.

_"Ok"._ Duo called forth an image of an easy spell that could make light and it flashed brightly into view above him. The lines of the spell looked like a constellation in his inner sky, spiraling diagonally almost like DNA. The light faintly reached him glowing against his pale skin. Beside him, the wolf seemed to absorb the light and looked as big as a horse. The wolf crouched, tense, and stared up into the large spiraling white construct. If used correctly, the spell would manifest a small globe of light in the physical world.

_"Go!"_

The wolf leapt upwards, running like a streak of pure blackness and Duo gasped. He could feel the wolf moving through him! It reached the construct and leapt.

The wolf hit it...and shattered it! Duo _moaned_ in dismay as he felt the wolf _ruining_ the spell. As it ran through, it shattered lines here, and knocked whirls askew there, and completely rearranged the overall shape. If the spell completed now, it could either release a nova-like blast of light, or an explosion of flame.

_"No! Stop!"_, Duo shouted. He yelped as he felt himself jerked tight and almost yanked after the wolf. Up ahead the wolf jerked to a halt midway, and seemed to be struggling against something. The wolf tried to leap and Duo nearly flew off of his feet. He could feel the tension all over, and his physical body began to tense too.

"_I...said...Stop!" _The wolf fought against him! Its head tossed to and fro and it snapped its jaws, struggling forward, trying to make its way through the opening Duo had created.

How could he not have noticed _this_? How could he have missed this wild beast waiting to pounce whenever he used magic? As Duo considered it, he recalled the constant feeling of intensely reigning back the power. He'd probably gotten used to it. He must have also had more control on the outside, only now he wasn't on the outside and he'd made a dangerous mistake.

He abruptly noticed that he was slowly rising and saw his wolf pulling him closer and closer to the completion of the spell. The wolf had crawled halfway between the mid point and the release point. Duo didn't have time for regrets. The boy gave one last mighty tug, and the wolf slipped back a few steps. Duo released the invisible restraints and the wolf howled in satisfaction. It leapt on, filling the mangled spell with destructive power, trying to fuel it enough to blow up the wards on the Room. Duo frantically threw his hands up, grasped the construct, and ripped it apart. He closed his eyes.

For a moment it seemed like he was too late. Then the spell shuddered and collapsed on itself, disappearing in a small wink of light. There was a howl...and the pent up energy exploded freely inside of him. The backlash of energy raced through him like acid rain and lightning. Whips beat at him from all sides, and salt scraped at his wounds. He felt violently ill all the while a howl, like a human scream echoed in his ear.

His physical body grunted and grit its teeth, as he shook imperceptibly in silent agony.

Duo blinked...and blinked again. Darkness everywhere. He sat up and rubbed at his eyes, trying to clear them. He looked around and still saw blackness. Starting to panic, he cast a light spell and gaped as the pattern of the spell filled the air above him, soft and white, casting down a gentle radiance. Waiting to be filled with magic. The ten year old studied the barely lit space around him, and discovered some sort of smog on the ground. He bent to touch it and it stirred and drifted around his fingers like cigarette smoke. But this was cool to the touch, and lingered on his hand. And black

_"Where am I?" _Duo frowned and tried to retrace events. _"The Room...I roasted Milliardo good...and got caught. The Witch..." _He sat down in the smoky black stuff, and found he had no trouble breathing. _"You are sloppy...no, **I'm** sloppy! So I tried...spell...wolf...wolf...wol- **SHIT!**"_

Duo jumped up and stared all around him. He couldn't hear anything...wait. There was something... He peered into the darkness and saw nothing. Wondering if his own magic could turn on him, Duo whistled for the wolf. Nothing happened. He whistled again and saw nothing but roiling black smoke, that kept rising to curl around his waist. He felt a pang in his chest at the realization that his wolf might be gone. It was after all, just a representation of his mutant energy. That didn't stop the pain in his heart though. But he could still feel the power inside, the wolf _had_ to be alive.

At the corner of his eye, Duo saw something shivering.

_"Wolf!"_

He ran through the smoke to the wolf and saw...a hole. From which black smoke cascaded. He stared in confusion. _"The Hell?_ It hung just above the smog, about the size of his head. Somehow in the blackness, the hole managed to starkly stand out. Duo reached out to touch the round edges, but his hand drifted toward the center...and into the hole. When the tips of his fingers brush the opening, they were slowly sucked in, like sinking into cake batter.

He snatched his hand out and slammed his eyes shut. Panic started seeping in. He didn't want to be here, he just wanted to be back in the Room with stupid Milliardo, and the genius Asian, even the Witch. Feeling the power all around him, Duo called to it. The wolf had to be somewhere, and he _would_ come. The power built up around him and he encouraged it. He started to feel full, and just pulled more to him. But no paws pounding , and no lick to the face. Finally Duo felt light headed and...cold? He opened his eyes and gasped.

A black tornado silently spun in front of him. It sat before like a sky scraper, but it felt gentle, and undemanding...pliant. Duo let his gaze drift upward, and gave another tiny gasp. At the very top, several wisps of smoke drifted upward to flow into the spell. They slowly filled each whirl and spiral, completing the spell.

_"**That's **my-"_

There was a bright flash of light and he blinked.

"Power?"

The Room's brightness filled his vision. He blinked again. He saw Milliardo leaving the Room, and everyone else was gone. Or almost everyone.

The Asian kid was out of his trance and his black eyes were locked on Duo.

Duo called forth his power, and instead of a charging jump, it _flowed_. He held up a hand, and watched a thin plume of wispy black generate from his flesh. Duo swallowed thickly.

The white cloth lay still on the floor before him. He could think of a lot of ways to do it, but he didn't have the pure magic to back up any of them. He shrugged feeling regret well in his chest. The Room had been right.

At least half of most magic was a process. The words, the concentration techniques, the runes. You can't do the magic without the process, and you sure as hell can't do it without some kind of power. Maybe this meant magic wasn't for him. He still wanted to push his mastery as far as he could, he wanted to be _the _master! But he'd never be anywhere near as good the Asian. Because while he knew a lot about the processes; Duo _forgot_ more about the processes in a day than the others learned in a week! And while he _knew_ he had a lot of power, the ability to use and interact with magic clearly wasn't his primary ability. Eventually even Milliardo, who had power but was, process speaking, a little retarded, would outstrip his magic ability too. There was only so much Duo could twist his strange power to magic.

Finally he stood, not looking at the Asian, and left.

A small ball of light wizzed cheerily in orbit around his head.


	3. Psyche

"Now slowly breathe in...And out. I want you to listen to the sound of my voice and." The man's voice, enhanced by his abilities, rippled through the air, and rolled over the collected students. He sat cross legged in the center, on the top of a flattened rock. As he spoke, the air ripple outward in a near invisible wave, spreading laxness and peace to the thirty-odd people surrounding the rock.

This hypnotic wave moved unchecked and each person felt their minds become free to focus on inner issues. What challenges must they overcome in their physical training? How can they better understand and utilize their abilities? Are they harboring any excess baggage that holds them back? When will their meditation techniques be competent enough to privately meditate on their own?

All movement quieted as everyone pushed inward and deeper.

Wind dove into the clearing like a playful bird. It swept through branches, gently making music of the rustling leaves. Next it ruffled hair as it briefly visited each person. In return for such affection, it collected a bit of their scents, only to lose its treasure amongst the grass. The grasses sighed and breathed, trying to collect the precious breeze for themselves. The wind paused for just a moment, letting the grasses think they had won, and then, with a mighty push, it gusted free, and sailed away.

As it dashed away, it swung low the ground, teasing small creatures. They didn't pay it any mind they were used to its games. The grasses were fast becoming too small and sparse to hope to grasp it, and the trees were coming fewer and fewer. Finally the breeze sailed free of the green world and coasted across a near flat, land filled with a wealth of tiny golden crystals. It kicked up a small cloud of them in its wake.

A wide expanse of the golden world passed beneath it, and the breeze grew bored and began to lose strength. Its form slowed and waned, no longer kicking up gold. Just as it was almost sucked into the still air, a man rose, far away and off the right. Suddenly new purpose filled the wind and it spun crazily across the expanse.

It reached the man and, intent on play, pounced on him. It missed. It lept again. And missed, again. It jumped all around the man, kicking up a small whirlwind of sand, but seemed to simply pass through him. The wayward wind was almost shocked into disastrous stillness.

Two more people were moving toward the water's edge, where, in a creature of dead wood was another human.

Pulling free of the boring, quiet air, the breeze chased after them. As wind is far faster than any other thing on this world, it caught up with them within seconds. _These _humans were fun! They had long hair to toss, and their outer coverings danced with the wind. The people swatted at it, but were too slow for its game.

The skipping air noticed the people were even closer to the water, and tried to pull them away. The humans ignored it, and didn't slow.

On the flat land, the wind was free to do as it pleased, but near the water, stronger drafts of air rolled heavily through the clouds, disrupting weather and destroying infantile breezes.

The breeze stretched like a thread, clinging to its playmates while trying to remain on land. It mustered as much strength as a small island breeze can, but its hold was slowly being shorn as the humans walked further away, and the edges of the sea breezes' strength tried to absorb the small land draft into them.

* * *

Iria squinted against the wind assaulting her face. A tall, bronze man bellowed, "Iria!" and steered the white sail boat nearly onto the island. She held Quatre's limp body awkwardly in both arms as she fought the wind to reach the boat.

"Iria! Give me your hand!" Sand and spray formed a difficult barrier to cross, but she struggled past it. Something was driving her so hard she could taste the danger in the air.

She had to dance in the surf to avoid being knocked over by the boat itself and didn't care that her ridiculously expensive, custom designed sundress was ruined and clinging uncomfortably.

Her missing shoes only bothered her slightly.

Iria started to shift Quatre to one arm and to take Rashid's hand, but thought better.

"Take Quatre first!" She lifted a comatose Quatre in both arms, still dancing against the waves, and breathed a sigh of relief as Rashid's strong hands took Quatre from her. Her breath squeaked out of her when his large hands closed around her midsection and plucked her from the water. Something inside of her relaxed.

For a moment Iria let herself forget she and kicked her heels and laughed.

A surprised smile tugged at Rashid's mouth. He hadn't seen Iria this care free since she was a teenager. Rashid swung her into the narrow boat and looked her over. Her hair, a mix between Quatre's white blonde and the rest of her siblings' black, was in disarray and littered with clumps of sand and her pretty white dress was soaking and clinging to her form in a way that a sixty year-old goat like him wouldn't appreciate.

He grunted, "Forgive me Mistress, I would have a towel and refreshments befitting a lady of your stature ready if this tug boat had enough room to fit more than just us three and few buckets of water." Rashid scowled at the water sloshing into the vessel. He looked at her reprovingly, "Master Quatre might catch his death with all the water and wind chill and you're no better running around in-"

Iria tossed her head back and laughed again. Then, pressing a hand over his mouth she said, "Oh Rashid! Shush! You never miss an opportunity to complain, do you?" At Rashid's disgruntled look she said, "Yes, I know, 'Only when there is ample reason'. Well you can complain later, once you've gotten this 'tug boat' as you called it back to civilization!" She gave him a mock stern glare and turned away from him, ignoring his good natured grumbling.

Turned nowhere really because the 'tug boat' really was small. There was only a thin old-looking board for sitting with supplies stacked under it and Quatre slowly twitching back to life on top of it.

She knelt and opened her senses to the pure warmth shining from him.

In the past fifteen years Iria had wielded her empathy so sparingly she'd honestly forgotten what it was like to unfurl her senses and just enjoy the _taste_ of another human's mind. Quatre was already so much stronger than she was that he filled her senses. And if she stretched old muscles she could sense a faint weariness muddying the stark clarity inherent in all normal children. Iria reached even further.

His consciousness exploded under her nose. Excitement, contentment, and wonder manifested in a flurry of physical and mental sensation.

That had always been a peculiar and often undesirable quirk of empathy. The body knows first and the mind catches up a second later.

For an incoherent moment she felt itchy, weightless, and short of breath.

Then silver, blue, violet, green, red, and orange filled her mind. There were a thousand matrices ranging from horse size to house size interlocked and connected at bead shaped pockets of shimmering... vibrance! Together they twisted in irregular shapes that should have made their very existence impossible, and yet a disbelieving blink and a fresh glance revealed an even _larger_-

Now his constant distraction and the strain of anxiety that felt like her skin tried to stretch a little too tight made complete sense.

Iria felt a sharp quiver of doubt. How would he cope with this burden alone?

She pushed it aside and ducked out of his consciousness, but not his mind. She instead drifted somewhere between his active psyche and the subconscious. Memory.

Quatre's sister gasped.

The blackness of space stretched out around her and thousands of winking stars dotted the distance. Trails of cosmic dust painted wide swathes of blue and green. Thin strings of gold hid amongst the other colors. There was sound too. Like the quiet moans a blizzard makes. And motion. At first she hadn't noticed it, but now it seemed impossible to miss. There was a subtle, definite drifting downwards.

They were all memories. Each spec of glittering dust, each star, and each moan. She reached out to one but paused mid-reach.

These were Quatre's private memories and feelings.

She pulled away.

Iria suddenly felt a strong urge to go _upwards_. Though there was no direction or measure of distance in any human mind, she focused on that feeling and let it guide her. The higher she went the closer together the memories clouded until she couldn't avoid brushing against them. Iria managed to quickly call up shields she'd long forgotten she could use. Still some emotion leaked through.

_Quatre happy, Quatre sad, Quatre excited, Quatre peeved..._

The memories became so thick she couldn't make out their individual shapes and colors anymore. Just an increasingly enticing feeling to go _up_.  
_  
Quatre bright, Quatre hungry, Quatre amused, Quatre..._

It was like moving through thick whitish mist.

_Quatre scared, Quatre upset, Quatre angry..._

Then she was swimming.

The strange luring feeling was. Abruptly dissappeared and Quatre's sister was suddenly much farther in his mind than she had meant to be.

Where was in? Or out for that matter?

Iria began to panic.

The lure wasn't gone it was _everywhere_! There was no longer a gentle insistence, but a sucking, snatching, _devouring_ presence! It wasn't just tugging her, but her sense of self. She flailed wildly.

Iria hadn't practiced her empathy in years and she found herself floundering, caught in the first mind she explored. She was literally drowning in Quatre! She needed to breathe.

Suddenly Iria broke the surface and tried to suck in air she shouldn't even need here. Her own mind didn't seem to want to listen and she gasped and reached out for some sort of anchor.

_searingburningheatpain_

Iria cried out and flinched back. And opened her 'eyes'.

Brilliant incandescence blinded her. As she stared, bits and pieces of herself began crumbling and dissolving. She started to forget things. Names, dates, faces, cares, and worries were stripped away.

Iria vaguely realized that she was being immolated. She didn't care. She never wanted to leave.

It was like embracing the sun.You know it will destroy you. But it's so, so beautiful.

The boat dipped sharply and her knee banged against the bench.

Rashid shouted back over the flapping of the sail, "Careful!"


	4. Shell Game

Quatre blinked. Gorgeous colors and shapes slowly faded and a grayish blue expanse filled his eyes. He had to really consider it for a moment before he realized that it was just the sky. By then other things impinged on his notice too. A sharp fluttering of cloth, the swooshing sound water made, the smell of salt. A sailboat?

The ten year old started to sit up.

"No Quatre." Iria. She was sitting right next to him, watching him. "You had another dream today. You should rest." Her eyes looked big and dark.

"Oh." Quatre smiled at her, remembering. "I did have a dream! Sister you'll never guess what I saw! There were-" She put a hand on his shoulder. It trembled.

"I know Quatre. But you should really should rest. You've had a long day."

He furrowed his small blond brow, "But I didn't-"

"You have. Even if you spent most of it in a dream." She gave him a small smile and it looked funny. Not an Iria smile. Like something bad had happened. Quatre frowned and searched his memory. All he could recall was waking this morning, getting into the hideous boat with Rashid and his sister, the short fight Rashid had put up about the low quality of the boat, the extremely long journey, and then all he could recall was the building that was a lot more than just a building.

That was all he remembered, but that wasn't bad, he'd started having a lot of daytime dreams about a lot of normal everyday things. He probably missed at least a few hours of any regular day. Nothing _bad _had happened though. Quatre squinted his eyes closed and tried a different method of finding things out. More and more often, if he concentrated enough, he could sort of quiet himself and listen to...to other things.

"Quatre stop that! I said rest!" He opened his eyes and frowned at her. She normally never raised her voice. He _really_ looked at his big sister. Quatre frowned deeper but quickly smoothed his face. Lines mar the face.

It really wasn't a proper vessel for people of his and Iria's background. His sister may have argued that it was perfectly acceptable, but she had still hesitated to step in a boat without a sitting room much less a kitchen for Rashid to putter in. It wasn't made with their sort in mind.

The only actual sitting space was the bench, so Iria was stuck sitting in the little corner formed by the bench and the side of the boat.

It _really_ wasn't a proper vessel for people like he and his sister.

There was only three or four feet separating one side of the boat from the other and instead of trying to stretch her long legs out in an inelegant sprawl, she'd folded them neatly beside her. Her hands were crossed at the wrists and lying in her lap.

Abruptly he noticed her appearance. Quatre couldn't quite help the undignified yelp.

"Iria...! Your clothing...your hair! How," He gasped, shocked "...did someone hurt you?" He knew he looked horribly common, slack jawed and sputtering, but despite the serene look on her face, Quatre had _never_ seen his sister look so terrible!

Her dress was a completely ruined. It was liberally splotched with sand and salt, and _wet_! Quatre couldn't imagine someone getting _water_ on silk. Never mind that Iria owned miles of silk, it was just very low-class. Her hair was a disgusting mess as well. Iria was the only one of his sisters who'd escaped fathers black hair. She 'd been born with honey blond locks, and though it was slightly thick she had always tamed it into beautiful, simple styles. Now it was a snarled, tangled beast that snapped crazily in the wind. And her _skin! _Sand burn and sun damage left her normally clear complexion splotchy.

Iria lifted her chin slightly and her expression chilled.

"Well Quatre," she began cooly, " While I appreciate your concern, though I feel I should warn you away from that nouveau-riche sort of candor, my appearance is only a mild irritation." His sister lifted an eyebrow. "And perhaps if I had become comatose and you had been forced to tote me around, then you might be somewhat tarnished as well." She let go of his gaze like she was too disinterested to continue looking at him.

That voice. That was Father's voice. The voice he used in public. The same condescending voice he had passed on to his children. A melodic sotto empty of real thoughts or emotions and full of false politeness. It easily covered things you didn't want people to hear. Anger, dislike, fear. It turned words like 'eat shit and die' into amiable conversation. The entire family spoke that way to outsiders.

Ever since his last birthday when he started 'dreaming' they spoke to him like that too. However he _was_ his father's only male heir and he was willing to bet that at ten, he was already smarter than all of his sisters put together.

In a few years, it would scarcely take a handful of threats and manipulations to change their attitudes.

But for now he had no power and Iria was the only one who bothered with him and his dreaming. He realized that she had probably had the same problems when she was ten. A week after his tenth birthday Iria had given him a disgustingly paltry spiel about 'space hearts'. But looking into her eyes he had dreamed of a fairy. Not at all like the fairies in books. It had been wretched. With its torn wings, scraggly hair, and spiders crawling over it's nude body. The skin had slowly changed color like a chameleon and a thousand eyes, like black marbles, dotted it's cheeks and brow.

It had worn her face.

Sometimes Iria _did_ just seem to know things.

Quatre swallowed his indignation at being called nouveau-riche, "Iria, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you angry, you just look ...I forgot my manners." Quatre tried a smile.

His sister continued to stare out at the sea and silence stretched for a long moment. Finally she turned to him and began speaking in a less patronizing tone of voice.

"That's alright Quatre, I guess I do look a bit of a mess." Her face relaxed and she gave another odd smile. "I'm sorry for being so harsh a moment ago. I'm just tired, even if you're not," she sighed and seemed to deflate a little, "I'd just like to spend the rest of the trip back with my thoughts. Is that alright with you, Kitty Quat?"

He knewshe wasn't really asking but it was nice that she had made it seem like she was, so he ignored the ugly misnomer. Quatre smiled and nodded.

Ten minutes later he have up on finding a comfortable position on the stiff old board and watched the clouds instead. The sky was a swirling grey tapestry. Dark here and light there. They would make a beautiful painting in his room.

_can'tgobackdon'tgoforward_

Of coure one should always look to the old before dirtying oneself with the new, so he'd have to-

_she's frightenedofyouforyou_

look into obscure classics. There was one cloud that was especially gorgeous. It looked like and angel with a sunny halo. Maybe-

_fatherlovesalreadydead_

Quatre blinked. What had he just been thinking? He rubbed his ears and noticed a cloud that looked vaguely like an angel. How pretty. Especially with the sunlight. Perhaps it could become a painting for his-

Reality slowly cracked away shard by shard.

_mindthedarkhe'll eatyou..._

For a moment it wobbled unsteadily and the sharp edges sang like wind chimes. Then it shattered and tore the heavens away.

He dreamed.

* * *

Her brother relaxed into sleep and she was finally able to look at him.

He was truly angelic. His fine white blond hair fluttered against his smooth brow and his small pink mouth was slightly open. His cherubic cheeks were all youth and innocence and even his tiny arms were cute. One resting on his chest and the other dangling off the bench. She almost wanted to reach out and hold his little hand. Almost.

It was nearly impossible to hold herself still and not start shrieking.

Free from Quatre's innocent notice, she shrank back into her little corner as far as she could. Anything to get away from the...the beast, the _monster_.

Iria prayed Rashid would not choose this moment to look back at his charges. The thin mask she had been hiding her panic with was long gone and the fear cut deep and sweetly.

She wished vehemently that she hadn't wavered on the island. That she had followed her original plan and left Quatre in the hands of the only people that would stand a chance of containing the horror inside him.

In her memory she saw an explosion of radiance and felt it burning away her body like she was tissue paper tossed in a bonfire.

Iria couldn't control her shaking or the fast beating of her heart. Safely hidden in the sounds of the rushing water and flapping sail, she moaned. Tears of fright pricked the corners of her eyes. She called up more half-forgotten mind techniques to close the memory off.

The boat stopped moving.

Afraid that Rashid had caught her sniveling like a child, Iria snapped her head up and glared coldly at him.

And found herself glaring uselessly at his back.

Rashid stood, knees bent and face like stone. The muscles in his arms bulged as he held onto the...

The sail was frozen mid-flap. The center curved outward, full of wind, and the edges curled and in mid-ripple.

She swung her head to look at Quatre and found his in the same position she had last seen him. But his chest didn't move.

Iria slowly leaned forward on her knees and turned out to the sea. The beauty of it took her breath away. Droplets of water hung motionless in the air glistening like diamonds. The sea itself was a deep blue sapphire and sunlight fell in individual rays of glistening particles of pure gold dust.

Without thinking Iria leaned over the boat side and lay a hand on the water's surface. It was cool. Hard and smooth like glass.

"Oh!" Her voice sounded like tolling bell. She realized there was no sound. At all. Just calm silence.

Suddenly Iria remembered what this was. She was in the space between thoughts.

Clairvoyance.

The only type of vision she'd ever had. When she was younger, they'd crept up on her like Quatre's visions. She would be reading a book, or studying, or even just thinking deeply, when everything around her would gradually hush and become still. Iria was free to move and observe as far as her legs would carry her before the world would start making noises and moving and she would find herself back where she had started.

The island clairvoyants had told her that with practice she would learn how to keep from being fully sucked into the vision and go farther and see more. It had been much more difficult to control than her empathy, and she hadn't stayed long enough to learn how. It hadn't mattered because over time they had become less and less frequent before disappearing all together.

"Oh," she whispered, "I forgot how _amazing_ this all was!" Her whisper left her lips and echoed with a life of its own.

"You still haven't learned, have you Iria?" Toneless and sexless.

Iria's head snapped up.

"No one leaves the Compound." There was no echo. It sounded close and intimate.

She whipped her neck around.

Ramar Nazeer stood on the other side of the boat.

"If only you had stayed my dear Iria. It hurts me to do this to you."

Iria scrambled to her feet and _lept _over the small boat. "Wait! I'm- I've, I've changed my mind!" She stumbled and fell to her feet before him. She was only a little startled to realize that he felt corporeal in her here and clutched at his clothing.

"Please! Take him!" she cried, "I- I can't, there's something _wrong _inside of him! There's so much-"

Ramar's face broke into a gentle smile. He opened his arms to her and gathered her to him. "You little fool," his voice was warm and soft, "There's nothing wrong with him. You are just a gnat that flew too close to the sun." He smoothed her hair back. "Of course you can't care for him, He is a god to you." He chuckled, "Foolish girl!"

Iria blubbered like a child, "Yes! I was- am foolish!" She peered up at him. "So will you take him?"

Ramar smiled at her.

"Of course. I already have him." He turned her around.

A figure in black was crouched in the boat at Quatre's side. There was a black gloved hand on Quatre's shoulder and he and the figure were rapidly fading from sight. In seconds they were gone.

A teleporter. One of the best to be able to move faster than thought.

She stared blankly at the empty bench. Then turned back to Ramar.

"So it's finally over for me, then," Iria stated "you have what you wanted."

Ramar looked at her and nodded. "Yes, we no longer have use of you any longer."

Iria suddenly felt ice crawl up her spine. "So you'll let me go then?" Ramar only stared at her.

She shivered and started to repeat herself. "So you'll-"

"Iria," His voice was filled with such compassion, "No one leaves the Compound. Not unless they are acting as an agent or eliminated." He stared at her sadly.

"But-," she licked her lips, "But _why_?" She almost didn't recognize the pitiful whine as her own voice.

He only looked at her sadly and shook his head.

Iria suddenly head a noise.

The distant flapping of a sail.

In between one blink and another she found herself squeezed back into the corner formed by the bench and the side of the boat. Iria tried to move but her body felt like lead.

She heard the distant sound of waves crashing.

A falling bit of spray tickled her arm as it gently continued its descent.

All around her the world slowly shook itself and began to awaken. The muscles in Rashid's arms began flexing slowly and the sail waved slowly back to life.

Caught mid-way between the real world and her vision, her eyes were still touched with clairvoyance and she watched Ramar, still looking at her sadly.

The air around him swirled sluggishly and a roar built up in her ears.

She saw him mouth something at her but couldn't quite make out wether it was, "It hurts me to do this." or "No one leaves the Compound."

The world came back in a rush of motion and sound and Iria screamed, "Please!"

Kinetic energy rent the air with a violent_crack_! and the boat exploded in red mist and splinters.

* * *

Jason stood on his rock in the center of the clearing and stretched all the way back. He waited until his back popped loudly before hopping off and into his throng of Students. He murmured all the while, maintaining the shifting waves of low-level hypnotic energy.

As he walked amongst his meditating Students he paused here and there to assist a Student having trouble. Jason didn't really say anything specific, all he had to do was keep up a steady flow of sound aimed in a Student's direction to gently over power whatever was holding them back. It didn't matter _what_ kind of sound he made. He could belch or sing or scream.

As long as it was quite and soothing.

He threaded his way through all of his pupils and worked his way to the outer edges of the quasi-circle. Jason moved past the first student with a nod. The young man's name was Wufei, and he obviously enjoyed meditation for its own sake and was one of the first Students to pick up the trick of it on his own.

There wasn't much farther to walk before he stopped in front of another Student. Trowa. The boy's tall lanky body was folded gracefully against a tree instead of the standard crossed legs position. Which was completely fine because Trowa was the absolute best at meditation Jason had _ever_ seen. The Student had come in on the very first day and gone into a meditation so deep...no one his age should have been able to manage it or come out of it. But he had, and he had continued to do so in every class he had. Jason had been so impressed he'd wanted to move the Student into a class usually reserved for adults of a much higher ranking. Trowa had declined without explanation or expression.

And...ah. The student that should have been closest to the center of the clearing where Jason's power was thickest. Instead he sat on the edge every day, far away from everyone. Student Duo was horrible in meditation. Partly because there was no way to gauge success for him. Some days he did wonderfully, some days he barely managed, and other days, like today, he couldn't even manage to _relax_. In fact he was bouncing his knee and absently plucking grass.

Jason shook his head, but kept up the soothing words. At least two of his high priority charges were doing fine. For some reason, he was told that these three Students were to achieve extra attention and assistance.

Perhaps it had something to do with the fact that his abilities couldn't touch them.

A transparent bubble of rose-colored energy diverted the hypnotic wave away from Student Wufei.

The hypnosis slid around Student Trowa, curling around his fingers and neck, but slid away with no purchase.

Student Duo... as the energy neared his skin... it ground against an invisible _something_ and shattered.

Few people could stop his unique mutation once he put it into action. No _Student_, no matter what their powers were, had _ever_ stopped his ability in its tracks. It made himgrin when he anticipated training them in combat someday.

Jason glanced at his watch and abruptly stopped speaking. Time to go. The energy was slow to dissipate, so he exhaled noisily, and then inhaled deeply. The air rippled wildly as his power flew back to him. He took another deep breathe and shouted upwards,

"MOVE YOUR ASSES!"


	5. Compound Ranking Children

Compound Ranking:

**Children**: All new entries into the Compound are considered Children. Just like a child's, every aspect of  
day is planned and they are always accompanied everywhere. A Child's day begins when they  
are awaken by a higher ranking person. This person is usually referred to as their 'Parent'.  
They eat in their rooms with their Parent. Their Parent still has responsibilities and so for the  
next three hours they 'tag along' as their Parent runs errands that take them throughout the  
Island. At noon they are taken back to their rooms for a meal. After the meal they have thirty  
minutes of privacy alone in their room. The next four hours are spent with a new Parent running  
errands inside Compound. At 1700 hours the Child is taken back to the Play Room and offered  
a taken through a series of mentally and physically stimulating exercises for three hours. There  
may be other Children with Parents nearby, but a Child is not allowed to interact with other  
Children. While able to freely converse with their Parent they are allowed to speak with others  
only at their Parent's discretion. Children are to be seen, not heard. They are tucked into bed at  
2000 and when they are awaken their day repeats.

While able to freely converse with their Parent they are allowed to speak with others  
only at their Parent's discretion. Children are to be seen, not heard.  
There are Children of all ages. No one is skipped ahead because of advanced years.  
No Child is spared the rod. A continuously misbehaving Child will be reminded of his place  
by firm spanking at anytime and any place.  
A Child is at no time to use any abilities, natural or otherwise, they possess.

Next ranking, **Student.**


End file.
